Of Stags and Murder in Charming
by brunettefan89
Summary: Will Graham and Company are investigating an emerging serial killer in Northern California. The investigation leads to encounters with a certain motor cycle club and a possible link to the killer. It is becoming a race against time to prevent the brutal murder of another woman. I own NOTHING IN EITHER FANDOM!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Hannibal nor Sons of Anarchy. This is set between Season One and Two of Sons of Anarchy. In the Hannibal verse, I would set this in early Season One. This is totally non-canonical so don't get on my back about continuity. Enjoy!.

One of the worst things about sleepwalking was waking up in strange places.

Will Graham had plenty of experience waking up in strange places. Highway patrol once picked him up along a dark country road. Alana once found him standing on the roof of his cozy little house. Beverly once found him wandering around a 24 hour supermarket while carrying a box of condoms and a party-sized bag of chips. He woke up as they were walking out of the store. Unfortunately, he didn't bother looking into his shopping bag until the next morning. He shared the chips with his dogs and the condoms were shoved into the nightstand. The condoms were still there in the unopened package, taunting him about his celibate state. On that summer morning he woke to the smell of booze, sweat, weed, leather, and sex.

"My name is Will Graham. It is June 7th and I am in California." He remembered that the team had flown to Northern California to search for a serial killer who targeted brunettes connected to the medical field. After looking at the second scene, he surmised the killer was targeting women who represented a woman who had spurned his advances. The second scene was in Lodi: a willowy medical school student with long brown hair named Sara. He had been left alone in his motel room to compose a clearer picture of whom and what they were dealing with. He dreamed that he was in a hospital corridor following a doctor with pale skin and straight dark hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail. She was stressed, to focus on something else to notice as he brushed past… Then, he woke up.

Stumbling up, he realized that he had been cocooned by two scantily-clad women with bottle-blonde hair and obviously artificially enlarged breasts. The little trio had fallen asleep on a pool table. Will checked himself and determined he had not engaged in sexual acts with anyone while sleepwalking. Thank whatever God exists for that small favor. He noticed the large room was littered with passed out bikers, strippers, and some others he did not care to identify. Finally, he noticed the Grim Reaper on the wall and the word SAMCRO. FUCK!

Will Graham knew of the Sons of Anarchy New Orleans (SAMNO) chapter from before being stabbed. The branch had been suspected of gunrunning in the Gulf of Mexico but convictions were hard to come by in the face of corruption in city hall and New Orleans PD. His personal interactions had been unique. The New Orleans clubhouse was located a mile away from his one bedroom apartment, which meant he was living in a fairly crime-free neighborhood. Sons of Anarchy try not to cause problems in the surrounding areas and warn away elements who want to start doing drugs or take to attacking women. Despite his view on the club, he really did not want to be found in the mother charter's clubhouse carrying his FBI badge and a good reason for being in the aftermath of a huge party!

Someone opened a door to his left. In stepped a woman who exuded a strange blend of power, vanity, and oddly enough a strong maternal drive. She was definitely older but wore tight black jeans and a white blouse like a second skin. She was old enough to have gray hair, but she had chosen to dye it dark with some light brown highlights. The first few top buttons were undone, exposing a long surgical scar. Her condition must be genetic because the scar tissue was very old. She wore crow tattoos on her arm and breast, indicative of having been married to two different club members. Her black handbag was weighted down by a gun, but she was used to the added weight. Obviously, she was used to guns and their purpose. The look in her eyes told him that she was a woman who had clawed her way to the top and would do whatever is necessary to protect her interests. She froze when she saw Will standing amongst the chaos.

"Wild night," she quipped but her eyes were hard. She was trying to identify him from somewhere, but the answer was not forthcoming. In her eyes all strangers were suspicious till proven otherwise. "Which charter are you from?"

Will licked his lips and tried to play sick. He grabbed his stomach and put on a pained expression. "Where's the bathroom, ma'am?" He moaned. Most people did not like being presented with a person who was about to vomit. This mystery woman was not the exception.

Her sharp chin jutted towards a hallway. "If you make a mess, I'll make you lick it up!"

Will Graham made a mad dash for a tiny bathroom and locked the door. He could hear other people waking up and moving around. SHIT! His original plan of slipping away unnoticed was completely trashed. Frantically, he grabbed his cellphone and searched his contacts for anyone who had flown to California. He finally found someone, pressed the call button, and began whispering.

"Look for any businesses that are associated with SAMCRO," he commanded. "I am currently trapped in their bathroom and I need someone to get me before they figure out I do not belong here." In the next second, his phone died. He pushed it back into his pocket and hoped for the best.

A dark part of him really wished the Ripper had killed again in Baltimore that week. At least that entity was somewhat familiar.


	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal Lecter would only rush for one person: Will Graham.

The good doctor had been attending a surgeon's conference in San Francisco as a guest speaker when he received word about the new case. Unable to cancel his speaking engagement at the last minute, he promised Jack that he would drive to the site the very next day. The secret cannibal was dare he say it anxious to see Will after being apart for the week. There were days he could dare to feel something akin to affection for the scruffy, blue-eyed man.

As he drove the rented luxury car along the highway, he noticed the car in front of him belonged to Dr. Tara Knowles. He smiled to himself as he recalled her frank nature and haunted eyes. She was very polite when they shared cocktails amongst colleagues, not that he was on the hunt. A Ripper crime in California while he is known to be in the state would be too risky even for him.

The good doctor learned that she was a pediatric surgeon at St. Thomas's Hospital near a little town called Charming. He shared that he was a former surgeon and a practicing psychiatrist in Baltimore. The topic of his seminar had revolved around successfully switching specialties in the medical field. He was apparently one of the more successful occurrences. He asked the young surgeon what she would do if she had to leave the operating room. Her response was to remain with pediatrics because she loved children. They eventually parted ways, but Hannibal could not forget those steady and delicate hands. If only he could teach her what works of art could be created with such tools! A woman like her must hold a grudge against someone!

A twist of fate had allowed for both drivers to forget filling up their tanks before leaving the conference. Hannibal and Tara pulled into a gas station at the same time. Being a gentleman, he let her take the pump of her choice. As he paid and put the nozzle in, he couldn't help but muse. William would need extra support during this investigation. He was far from his dog-filled home and any normalcy the FBI Academy supplied. Hannibal was also on a forced non-human meat diet till he could return to Baltimore. He had to settle for five-star restaurant fare and quite possibly surviving on any artisanal shop he could find. Bringing his speaical meat across country would be risky. He missed serving Will and other FBI agents the flesh of rude people who had the bad luck to cross paths with Hannibal Lecter. He wondered if young, haunted Tara would appreciate some liver from a pushy sales assistant.

His cell phone going off interrupted any further muses.

POV: TARA

Tara kicked herself for neglecting to fill up the tank before leaving the conference. Her recent thoughts had circled upon Kohn's death, Jax, the Club, Abel, and the whole damn town of Charming. She noticed a familiar face from the conference: the famous Dr. Hannibal Lecter. The raven-haired woman had to admit the man had charm coming out of his very pores, but something in his eyes spoke of danger. It reminded her too much of Gemma. Thinking of her estranged lover's mother made her shudder. The polite part of her brain kicked her for making that comparison between a man she knew only as a professional and the mother of all harpies from Hell.

A ringtone echoed in the morning air. Her hand went instinctively for hers, but it actually belonged to Dr. Lecter. It sounded like the openings to a piece of classical music, but the genre was never her forte. She had spent her teen years listening to rock, classics, and metal as she roamed around town with Jax. Memories of a less complicated life always made her smile.

"What the hell are the Sons of Anarchy?" A European accented voice asked a cellphone.


	3. Chapter 3

Jax Teller found the FBI profiler hiding in the bathroom five minutes after ending his conversation with Tara and that guy with a weird accent.

"I deal with serial killers, not motorcycle enthusiasts who may or may not be involved with gun running," Will explained to the Redwood Vice President who looked better suited as a blonde male model. "I personally do not care what you do so long as one of you is not a cannibalistic murderer."

Jax mused for a moment. "Well, Tig does have a tendency to bite during a fight but I've never seen him swallow." He looked over his shoulder, and then grabbed the profiler. Fortunately, he was able to sneak the guy out of the clubhouse and into Dr. Lecter's waiting rental car. The guy with really high cheekbones and slicked back ash blonde hair thanked Jax before pulling away.

"I am curious as to the condition you found yourself in when you finally woke up, Will." Hannibal stated after five minutes of silence. Will's response consisted of a loud groan.

June Stahl would have thanked God if she believed in God for her good fortune.

Most people in the federal agencies had heard of Will Graham and his special talents. Like many others in law enforcement, she initially wrote him off as a lunatic at best and at worst a fraud. When she saw him in person while sitting in on a lecture, she found him to be a twitchy guy who wouldn't make eye contact and was covered in dog hair. Eventually, he proved to be the real deal when he kept nabbing serial killers across the country. She had pondered how he could do it without being a serial killer who was framing other crazy people. She learned that the reason for his success was the fact he could get inside the minds of those he hunted. June was not a dummy by most standards, despite the drunken ravings of her long-dead alcoholic father. The ATF agent already knew she would have to be underhanded to take down SAMCRO, but she conceded that she needed some extras for this problem.

As she stared through the glass partition at Jack Crawford and his team, she wondered if Will could work the same magic on her SAMCRO problem. It would be nice to know if one of them had plans on smashing her face into a hard surface before it happened. Her nose throbbed at the memory. Maybe this Will Graham had a thing for any woman who would willingly go near him?


End file.
